


The Feeling You Bring

by vesper_house



Series: Before Dawn [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU (Movies), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Clark, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Tie Kink, Top Bruce, satan just called and asked what size of cauldron should he prepare for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesper_house/pseuds/vesper_house
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their second night. Takes place after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5971429">Two Weeks</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feeling You Bring

**Author's Note:**

> It all started when I was bored at work and wrote something silly in google docs. Now it is an ongoing series and I blame ALL OF YOU.
> 
> So here, have more porn. Be aware that Bruce acts a bit creepy but hey, he is the goddamn Batman, what did you expect? 
> 
> English is still not my first language (I know, what a surprise) so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS. I'm posting this on the Oscars night so please cross your fingers for Tom Hardy - I love that guy almost as much as I love Batman and Superman going at it.
> 
> \---

November 13th

\---

Clark never made it to the interview.

On the bright side, he does not have to lie to Lois about the emergency.

A cry for help reached his ears out of the blue. When Superman arrived in the east Queensland Park, the area looked like a warzone. He could hear explosions and see fireballs soaring into the sky. People and vehicles were blew up high in the air. One of the streets had been split along its length.

“It was a series of gas explosions,” Clark explains to Lois on the phone from the safety of his studio flat. “There were numerous reports of gas leaks earlier today and the night before. I don’t believe it was an attack, Lois. Looks more like a classic case of negligence. I’ve told the same story to Perry.”

 _“This isn’t actually good news,”_ Lois says.

“No, but it gave me some kind of comfort.” He pauses. “Am I an awful person because of what I’ve just said?”

_“Relax, I know what you’ve meant. An accident caused by negligence means people are stupid, not malicious. Although I’d argue that the first instance is far more dangerous.”_

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We will see what the investigation brings to light.”

 _“Superman did a great job by the way,”_ there is an audible change in her voice, _“People already say that thanks to him there were no fatalities.”_

“A massive exaggeration, really,” Clark says as he puts on his favorite pajama bottoms.  

_“I don’t know, flying an ambulance straight to the hospital’s parking lot seems like a pretty big deal.”_

“I almost forgot about it to be honest. There was a lot going on.”

_“Humble as usual!”_

“And smelly as never before. I’ve showered for an hour and I can still feel the smoke.”

At this point he probably just imagines the smell. He have not felt this drained in a long time.

 _“Okay, time to change the subject_ ,” Lois can always sense his current mood, _“guess who got an exclusive with Bruce motherfucking Wayne.”_

Clark can feel a knot tying in his throat.  

“How did it go?” He forces himself to sound casual.

_“Oh, he is a tough one. Spoke like he was reading a statement written by his PR team nearly the whole time. It’s like he tried to be boring, you know?”_

“So you still think he is hiding something?”

_“I’m sure he does, but I don’t know if it’s worth my time. Not after he invited me for dinner with breakfast.”_

Now _that_ is some news, Clark thinks to himself. There is a knock on the door and he goes to it without thinking.

“He was flirting with you?”

 _“Wasn’t even subtle about it,”_ Lois confirms _, “Gotta admit, he is good at this. I saw how he charmed the pants off Vanessa from WGBS. I wouldn’t be surprised if she blew him in his car right after that_.”

Clark peeks through the door with x-ray vision. Looks again. Thinks he might be hallucinating.

_“Clark? You’re still there?”_

“Charming, indeed,” he says. “Listen, uuuh, can I call you tomorrow? I wanna… work a little more on that gas leak case.”

_“Yeah, sure. Although I strongly encourage you to have some fun this weekend. And no, working on your family’s farm doesn’t count.”_

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. Bye,” he ends the call a little too abruptly.

Thoughts are running wildly through Clark’s head. He kind of does not want to open. Maybe he could get away with pretending he is not home... No, not a chance. Clark cannot really say what he feels at the moment, but he recognizes a small part deep inside of him that is already running towards the door, joyful and breathing heavily from excitement, ready to smother the person on the other side with affection.

Another knock.

Clark makes sure his Superman suit is stored safely in the usual hiding spot and puts his glasses back on. Then he finally reaches for the knob, hand trembling ever so slightly.

“Hi,” he greets the guest, “what are you doing here?”

Bruce is dressed in all black. His eyes shamelessly ogle Clark’s naked torso.

“Good evening,” he says in response and immediately brushes past Clark who is too taken aback to stop him.

“How did you get my address?” Clark asks, trying to regain his self-control.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to locate someone these days.” Bruce walks around the place carefully, looking into every corner like it is a crime scene. He turns the lights out in the living area, which makes Clark even more confused. It does not escape his attention how terribly out of place the billionaire looks in his apartment, which was not spacious to begin with, but now feels… cheap.

“I’m aware of that,” Clark says as he moves away from the door, “that’s why I always make sure my personal data is properly secured. So let me ask you again,“ he moves closer to Bruce. “How did you know where I live?”

“Let’s just say I know where to look.”

Bruce draws the curtains shut. The only source of light left is a single light bulb hanging in the open kitchenette.

“That’s not...” Clark realizes he may not receive an answer. “Just… This is a serious invasion of privacy, alright? What are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shuts down Clark’s laptop in one hasty movement.

“There is this girl,” Bruce says after a moment, frown forming on his handsome face, “singer, I think. Audrey? Riley? Never mind.” He scowls visibly as he unplugs the laptop. “What matters is that she’s desperate to get on tabloids front pages. An affair with someone of significant public recognition would help her get there… At least that’s what her record company calls _promotion_. She’s been bugging me for days.”

Clark rolls his eyes.

“Oh you poor man, suffering because of all those beautiful women throwing themselves at your feet…”

“A reliable source told me that she was going to visit my hotel room tonight,” Bruce continues talking. “When I checked in this afternoon, paps were literally hanging off the trees. Some of them rented space in the building on the other side of the street. Someone was following me for a while. I must confess that it was quite disturbing.”

Clark bites the inside of his cheek before he can blurt out that he understands. The most frightening thing about being Superman so far was the unwanted attention from the media. An explanation for Wayne’s odd behavior starts to take shape.

“And then there’s you.” Bruce walks slowly towards Clark with hands in his pockets. "You stood me up today.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but a part of Metropolis blew up today,” Clark says.

“I’ve noticed,” Bruce replies with a bite in his voice.

“Someone from the Planet had to be there. This is what I do for a living.” Clark leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms. “But I believe Lois Lane was a pleasant company. From what I’ve heard you were flirting with her the whole time.”

“I was?” Bruce asks, almost genuinely amazed. “I guess it’s a habit. Would be a lot more exciting if I could play footsie with you under the table. Wonder if you could keep a straight face… Or would you just burst out of the room like you did during the press conference?”

A red hot blush blossoms on Clark’s face.

“What about Vanessa from WGBS?”

Only one corner of Bruce’s mouth goes up as he smirks, getting closer to Clark.

“Baby,” he whispers and tentatively touches Clark’s exposed hipbone with just one finger, “are you jealous?”

His touch, nearly non-sexual at all, burns Clark’s skin the way fire never could. He has to take a deeper breath as he relaxes his arms and places them on the counter behind. Clark would not describe himself as vain but he is not blind either – he knows exactly what kind of impression he can make with his body. And Wayne _is_ impressed. His whole body language, from the piercing stare to the slight swell in his pants, shows very clearly what is on his mind. Clark lets out a brief snort.

“You really get off on this, don’t you?” Clark asks. He did not really intend to make it sound so snarky. “Arriving out of nowhere, disrupting my life… Taking control whenever you feel like it. Those pretty girls just want it a little too badly, right? They’re no fun.”

Another one-sided smirk.

“Allow me to refresh your memory a bit.” Bruce traces a straight line with his forefinger – from Clark’s thigh up to his chest, careful not to make any contact with his thickening dick. “You came to me. I have made myself very clear: it was entirely up to you. You didn’t protest when I had my way with you even though we could’ve stop anytime – I’ve said that as well. But no, you were sweet and pliant, so eager… Asking for it so prettily… You’ve even _thanked_ me for giving it to you. So I must disagree. Those girls don’t want it too badly. They simply don’t want it badly enough.”

Clark licks his lips. The movement catches Bruce’s attention and Clark thinks they are going to kiss. Instead his lower lip gets pulled and bitten. Hard. Admittedly, Clark makes a bit of a show when he releases a loud, wanton moan.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Bruce asks, voice warm and husky. “I can leave right now if you want me to.”

How could anyone dismiss Wayne when looks the way he does right now, so irresistible that it should be banned by law. Probably already is in some states. Yet he still leaves the decision to Clark, making sure this is what he wants as well. Asks for permission even though he could have his choice of beautiful women who would rather die than deny him anything. Clark’s head is swimming with the sudden rush of power, blood roaring in his ears.

“Don’t you dare,” Clark whispers.

There is a glimmer in Bruce’s dark eyes.

“Take off my coat,” he says, the weird smirk finally gone.

Clark complies, although he is not happy with the command. He takes his time by putting his palms on the other man’s chest and running them slowly towards his shoulders. The notion of how _broad_ Bruce really is makes him shiver just a little. He puts the heavy black coat on a clothes stand. Meanwhile Bruce unbuttons his waistcoat and loosens the tie.

“Come on now, give daddy a kiss.”

That is something Clark can obey without a second thought. He takes Bruce’s face gently in both hands and pulls him close and oh, no, he is so _not_ standing on his toes right now – at least this is how he will remember it. This time the moan is completely authentic as he opens his mouth invitingly, allowing their tongues to meet and change the kiss from chaste to filthy in a matter of seconds. When Bruce embraces him tightly, Clark sees stars with eyes closed. Rough hands slide down his back until they stop to grip his ass appreciably.

 _Why is this so good,_ Clark wonders briefly as he deepens the kiss, his arms now wrapped around Bruce’s neck. It is electric, they way their bodies work so well together. One of Bruce’s hands goes slowly up his spine and closes around the nape, nails digging into the skin. Clark starts to think about how to maneuver them in the general direction of the bed without breaking the contact, floating being the most preferred option naturally, but then Bruce suddenly breaks the kiss and nearly slams him face first against the counter. Clark stands there, dumbfounded, until Bruce is back on him. He sneaks one palm past the hem of Clark’s pajamas.

“You were naughty today, weren’t you?” Bruce growls right into Clark’s ear. “Just what were you thinking, huh?” He strokes Clark’s length a little too harshly, a little too dry. “You wanted to tease me? Left me with my cock half hard to prove a point? That wasn’t very nice, don’t you think?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Clark mutters.

“I didn’t want to come to this goddamn city,” there are two sturdy fingers making their way inside Clark’s mouth, “but all I could think of was your tight ass clenching around my cock. And the sounds you were making as I was fucking you. Do you even know how loud you can get?”

Clark can feel a rock hard erection pressing at his ass, so he promptly pulls his pants down. He just needs _more_.

“Look at you, already so desperate… Did you miss daddy’s cock?”

Clark moans and braces himself on the counter, sucking Bruce’s fingers more vigorously to show that yes, he is ready, he needs this like breathing.

“My sweet boy,” Bruce trails his neck with wet kisses. Clark bends his head to the side to give the man a better access, bites his lips as the spit-slick fingers make their way down. Walls in the building are not exactly paper thin, but neither they are soundproof. Clark tries to muffle his moans as one finger probes his entrance.

“Trying to keep it quiet again?” Bruce asks and _oh god_ , that rumbling baritone does things to Clark. “Aren’t you tired of that after our little adventure? You looked so beautiful,” second finger follows, causing Clark’s body to jolt, “struggling to hold yourself back but coming undone so quickly… Trying so hard not to fuck my mouth… You wanted to do that, haven’t you?”

“Ye-yes…” Clark is torn between the need to thrust his hips into Bruce’s fist and pushing himself back against the fingers penetrating him. Both feel good but none of it is enough. He shuts his eyes and tries to find a satisfying rhythm, swallowing needy cries before they can reach his lips. Then Bruce’s wet, hot tongue licks his ear and Clark makes a sound that is dangerously similar to a full-blown scream.

“Louder,” Bruce whispers and crooks his fingers that are now buried deep inside Clark, touching his sweet spot with devious precision. “Come for daddy.”

Clark’s head lolls back and rests on Bruce’s shoulder. It is getting hard for him to stand up straight on his legs, knees bucking from the overwhelming sensations, and now everything is perfect – the grip on his cock, the feeling of being full and proded in the best of ways, the tongue teasing his ear…

“Right there, right there, aah, like that…” Clark sobs in a high-pitched voice, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m so close, don’t st-aaah, aaah, _aaaah!_ ”

If it was not for the support of Bruce’s body, he would collapse. This is probably the closest he has ever got to being high.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” Bruce whispers, releasing Clark’s softening member.

Clark cracks one eye open. The kitchen counter is stained with white streaks of his own cum.

 _Well, cooking here will never be the same_ , he thinks to himself.

“You should clean this up like the good boy you are.”

Bruce puts a hand on Clark’s head and forces him to bend down. Clark obeys without any kind of protest, licking all of the fluids off the surface until it is spotless. Bruce keeps scissoring him the whole time. The minute Clark is finished with “cleaning”, he gets pushed down on the hard kitchen floor.

“Stay down,” Wayne straddles him, one hand pressing brutally between Clark’s shoulder blades.

At once Clark realizes what is going to happen. The thought alone turns him on more than it probably should. He lies there not moving, not making a sound except for the short, frantic breaths as Bruce puts on a condom.

“I thought of spanking you but that wouldn’t be a punishment since you like it so much, "Bruce’s voice is hoarse with desire, “so I’m gonna fuck you like that, right after you came and can’t get hard. This is what you get for being naughty, understood?”

“Yes daddy,” Clark sobs quietly as he feels the tip of Bruce’s cock nudging at his hole.

It does not hurt, not in a way that could cause Clark pain, but it is right on the border of being uncomfortable simply because of how huge and unrelenting Bruce’s dick feels. He loses control and fucks into Clark without giving him a chance to adjust first: he has been on the edge far too long to care about being gentle. He bites Clark’s shoulder and ruts like an animal, whispering _take it, take it_ absently, forcing himself deeper with every hectic push of his hips.

He is so gorgeous that Clark simply has to pull him down for a kiss that is more teeth than lips. It lasts for only a few seconds before Bruce shoves his head to the floor.

“Don’t,” Bruce grumbles as he takes off his tie and wraps it around Clark’s wrists. His movements are almost scarily fast.

Suddenly it occurs to Clark that he is getting fucked by a man who is probably far more dangerous than he seems to be. Something close to fear dabs him between the ribs as his cock attempts to grow again. His hands are now tied, resting at the small of his back. Bruce picks up his pace and this time Clark is sure there is an intention of bringing pain onto him behind every thrust.

“You whine like a bitch,” Wayne growls, fist clenching in Clark’s dark hair.

It is true: Clark is making sounds that are not exactly moans – more like weak, muffled mewls. _My neighbors will think someone’s murdering me_ passes through his head.

A long forgotten memory comes to him as he tries and fails to keep quiet. He remembers bruises he got from fighting Zod, spread all over his skin like an ugly constellation. Clark often pressed on them when he was alone, fascinated by the weird sensation it brought – especially the fleeting relief that came right after he stopped. Being used like this on the kitchen floor feels confusingly similar. His stream of consciousness gets interrupted when he gets turned on his back.

Now Bruce stands over him and jacks off violently, eyes locked on Clark’s face, and somehow manages to actually look intimidating. The image will haunt Clark until the end of time.

“Tell me you want me to come,” Bruce spits out through greeted teeth.

“Come for me, daddy,” Clark says in low voice, “please, do it for me. I want you to come… I was a good boy, please come for me now…”

He is rewarded with hot spurts landing on his chest and stomach. The smell of sex hangs in the apartment like a fog, making it hard to catch a breath.

“Don’t move,” Bruce’s voice is deliciously gruff. He looks like he just ran a marathon and in that moment Clark would do _anything_ for him. He watches as his lover goes to the bathroom, obediently staying in place – dizzy, tired, fucked, staring mindlessly at the ceiling.

Wayne comes back with a towel. He wipes the cooling cum off of Clark’s skin, then moves to untie his wrists. Next he gets rid of the pajamas that pooled around Clark’s ankles sometime during their heated encounter.

“Embrace me,” he says, looming over Clark who does as he is told. “With your legs, too.” Clark wraps his legs around Bruce’s waist. “Hold on now.”

 _God, he really is strong_ , Clark thinks, clinging even more tightly as he is being manhandled to the bed. Bruce puts him there with a kiss on the lips.

“I’m starting to feel like a girl,” Clark mutters with a smile.

“Is that so bad?”

“No actually,” Clark kisses him again, “flowers would be a nice touch.”

“Noted.” Bruce’s smirk fades. He points at Clark’s glasses. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for a new pair.”

Clark takes them off, puzzled. Now he can see that there is a small crack on one of the lenses – the one that was rammed hard into the floor.

“It’s okay,” he says and puts them back on, “I’ll get it fixed, no need to buy new ones.”

“I really am sorry,” there is a sheepish look on Bruce’s face.

“Don’t be,” Clark follows his words with a quick smooch. “That was good.”

“So you’re okay?”

“Mmm, more than that. I’ve told you I like it rough.”

“Turn around though, I need to check if everything’s alright down there.”

The post-climactic haze is truly overbearing because Clark almost blurts out something along the lines of _no need to, I’m indestructible you see, I can take a pounding_. Fortunately he hides it behind an ambiguous grunt and lies down on his front. Their bliss is ruined by the sound of phone buzzing.

“I’m afraid I have to pick up,” Bruce says and slaps one of Clark’s butt cheeks playfully. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Yes daddy,” Clark replies with a smile.

Bruce shakes his head a little. He takes his phone out of the coat’s pocket and mutters the word _shit_ under his breath when he sees who is calling. “Go,” is all he says to the person on the other side of the line.  

Clark watches through half-closed eyelids as Bruce paces around the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of tap water and downs it like he just came back from a desert.

“Well, you can send Peterson to handle this…” Bruce frowns and sighs as the caller floods him with more words.

Clark is ready to doze off when the bed bends under the weight of another body. Bruce spreads his cheeks with one hand, looking at Clark’s abused entrance while still talking on the phone.

“ _Are you serious?_ ” Clark mouths to him, eyes wide in surprise.

“Just give me the numbers and we will decide what to do, okay?” Bruce looks at him with mischievous grin. “Yeah, I’ll write them down. Go on.”

And then he starts licking Clark’s gaping hole.

“Oh my god…” Clark cries out very quietly into the pillow.

It is odd and amazing at the same time. The damp warmth of Bruce’s tongue soothes his most sensitive parts in the strangest way.

“Mhmm,” Bruce murmurs to the phone. The tip of his tongue makes circles around Clark’s edges, dipping inside just a little, enough to make Clark go crazy.

“Was the last one thirteen or thirty? Got it,” Bruce says, tone of voice as innocent as a kitten.

Clark has to bite the pillow to stifle his moans. This is just too much. His toes curl when Bruce sticks his tongue in, sending shivers through Clark’s wrung out body.

“Yeah, I know,” there is spit running down Bruce’s chin as he pushes his tongue deeper.

Clark raises his hips so he can grab his already leaking member. He is panting, heart racing, squirming on the bed. On the verge of going insane.

“Listen, send these immediately to Fox. We will discuss it further during the board meeting on Monday, alright?” Another lick all over Clark’s hole. “No need to panic. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Bye.”

Bruce ends the call and places himself behind Clark.

“You taste good baby, did you know that?”

“Please, don’t stop…” Clark whines pathetically.

“You like that, don’t cha,” Bruce lifts Clark by the hips to get better access.

Clark screams as Bruce starts to fuck him with his tongue. The whole world goes red as his heat vision gets activated by accident. Luckily he cools it down before anything unexplainable could happen.

All of a sudden Bruce flips him on his back. Clark wonders for a second why are his legs so high up in the air and then there is wiggling tongue inside his hole again, this time combined with Bruce’s hand on his dick.

“Oh, I’m gonna come,” Clark screams. A telltale knot is tying low in his abdomen, nearly ready to snap.  

Bruce mercifully does not stop his ministrations. Clark takes a look at his lover who looks like he is completely at peace, so happy to be between Clark’s spread legs, like there is no place he would rather be and absolutely nothing better to do than licking into Clark and stroking his cock and groaning with pleasure, his light stubble rubbing at Clark’s private skin…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Clark mumbles, “Bruce, it’s too much, I’m gonna fucking die, I’m gonna…”

Clark explodes like a supernova. It _should_ kill him because nothing will ever feel better or even half as good as this. He cries from the aftershocks rumbling through his veins and he is not a person anymore but something more primal, a being devoid of senses and needs.

It takes a pat on the cheek to bring Clark back to reality.

“Still with me?” Bruce asks. “Or did you really die?”

“If I did, this must be hell,” Clark retorts in a shaky tone, “because you are the devil. No, not the devil – you are a walking sin.”

“Says a watching sinner.” Bruce is so smug that Clark could actually punch him if he only had any strength left. “Next time I’m going to make you come untouched.”

Clark sucks in a breath. So there will be a next time. Wayne goes to the bathroom and flushes his mouth with Listerine.

_Next time._

Maybe it is just a promise he does not intend to keep but right now Clark simply hopes that is not the case. He just really, really wants the next time to happen.

Bruce comes back and kisses him soundly.

“Guess I’m gonna go now,” he says in a hushed voice.

“You could stay here for the night,” Clark says, “I mean, there is this beautiful girl on a loose. Who knows what she could do once she gets her claws on you.”

It makes Bruce chuckle.

“Come on,” Clark continues, trying his luck, “we could get a pizza and watch a movie on my crappy laptop. You’ll have the full broke college student dating experience.”

“You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet.”

“I also make the best pancakes in the world for breakfast.”

“Hmm. Bacon and maple syrup?”

“You name it.”

Clark can almost taste the victory but tries to play it cool.

“Alright,” Bruce says and starts to take his shirt off. “Go clean yourself and order a pizza. I’m good with every topping unless it’s pineapple, in which case I’m gonna walk out that door and you’ll never see me again.”

Clark kisses him like they did not just fuck each other’s brains out.

“No, don’t get me excited,” Bruce says as he pulls away from the kiss. “I have to send a couple of very important emails.”

“Okay, mister very important man.”

“Call me daddy.”

“Yes, daddy.”

\---

Pizza arrives at the very minute Clark leaves the shower. He opens the door in nothing but a towel around his waist and tries to remember where the hell did he put his wallet.

“Money’s in my coat,” Bruce yells from the bed, sending messages on his phone.

Clark makes a face at him. The delivery man cannot see Bruce but there is a small chance that he could be recognized from his voice alone.

“My treat,” Clark says pointedly. After some more struggle he finally finds the wallet.

“Thanks! Have a good night, gentlemen!” The man smiles at Clark like he knows _exactly_ what is going on.

“Thank you.” Yes, Clark might be blushing a little.

He takes the box and the laptop to the bed. Bruce squints at the small screen, scrolling through something that looks like a Wall Street newsfeed.

“Play time’s over,” Clark says as he drops the pizza on his lap, “now we eat and pick a movie that is older than you are.”

“Let me guess, that leaves us with the silent era.” Bruce puts his phone on the nightstand, watching with obvious interest as Clark gets naked and slips under the covers.

“Look at you, Bruce! You’ve made a funny!”

“Sometimes I make funnies,” Bruce bites into the first slice, “but I prefer to make you come.”

“Movie!” Clark claps his hands loudly. “Which genre do you like the most?”

“There are genres?”

Clark rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I will choose but you won’t have the right to complain if you don’t like it.”

“Knock yourself out.”

For a couple of minutes they just munch on their food as Clark rummages through pay-per-view websites. The atmosphere feels oddly normal: just two lovers letting the flames of desire burn out so they can go to sleep. Bruce is warm beside him, content. He also smells heavenly, his masculine musk mixed with the scent of sex and a weak undertone of cinnamon.

“What kind of fragrance do you use?” Clark asks out of nowhere.

“It’s from a small manufacture in Grasse,” Bruce takes another slice from the box, “run by the same family for over five hundred years now. Custom order.”

“Grasse in France?”

“Yeah, ever been there?”

“Can’t say I have,” Clark tries really hard not to smile. _Custom made perfume, Jesus fucking Christ._ “I like it. Suits you well.”

“Boy, are you trying to get into my pants?”

“Been there, done that,” Clark stuffs his mouth with pizza crust, “and we are watching _To Be or Not To Be_.”

“If it’s an adaptation of _Hamlet_ , I will smack you on the head with a newspaper.”

“Nope, it’s a war comedy from 1940s. You’ll love it.”

In the end, Clark has no idea if Bruce liked it or not. Thirty minutes into the movie and the man falls asleep, snoring softly, lips slightly parted. Clark does not mind one bit.

 


End file.
